


Once Upon A December

by NotMyOrthonym



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: F/F, Inspired by Anastasia (1997)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-10-16 14:28:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17551436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotMyOrthonym/pseuds/NotMyOrthonym
Summary: There's a 200,000 mark reward for the return of the long presumed dead Princess Adora. Catra and Scorpia see this as their chance to get out of the Fright Zone for good.Meanwhile, an orphan named Mara heads to the Fright Zone, trying to find her lost past.





	1. The Rumor, The Legend, The Mystery

“Have you heard?” the old woman asks as Scorpia finishes hoisting up the stall for her. 

“Heard?” Scorpia replies, tongue poking out of her mouth as she focuses on tying the knot holding the tent fabric to the wooden poles without cutting the string with her pincers.

“Of Prince Adam’s new decree!” the fishmonger says when Scorpia trades the woman’s potatoes for a kettle of fish. 

“Prince Adam of _Eternia_ ,” another merchant says as Scorpia swaps half the fish for a few more root vegetables and some fresh herbs.

“He’s issued a reward!” the child selling rolls for her father exclaims when Scorpia stops by. 

“Two hundred thousand marks!” her father calls back over his shoulder.

“Can you imagine?” asks the girl selling wine as Scorpia picks up a bottle.

“Alive, after all this time!” the news boy calls out, waving the latest papers all around.

“She could be anyone,” the weaver whispers, draping a coat around Scorpia.

“Just think!” even the ticket seller says when Scorpia stops to say hello.

“Catra!” Scorpia calls, bursting into the small, warm room, her arms full of shopping. “Have you - “

“Of course I’ve heard,” Catra scoffs, turning from the web of notes on the wall to face Scorpia. “And I’ve got a plan.”

 

“But where will you go?” Lonnie asks, watching her friend pack her things. “They can’t actually make you leave yet, you know. They don’t know how old you really are.”

Mara shrugs, tossing away a shirt full of holes. “That could go the other way, too, you know. I could be older than they think.”

“At least stay through the winter,” Lonnie catches Mara’s arm. “It’s safer to leave in the spring, and I’m sure they’d bend the rules for you.”

Mara smiles, resting a hand on Lonnie’s shoulder. “I’ll be fine, Lonnie. I am fine. I’m more than fine.”

Lonnie sighs, but can’t resist smiling back. “You’re really getting out, huh?”

“You know it.” Mara brings up her other hand to fist bump Lonnie. “I’ll try to get word to you once I’m out. Maybe you can sign up with me. See the world together.”

“If anyone can, it’s you, Mara.” Lonnie squares her shoulders, determination flashing across her face. “I’d be honored to fight beside you.” Mara nods again, turning back to packing up her meager belongings. She blinks in surprise when Lonnie tosses a loaf of bread and half a small wheel of cheese onto the bed. “Since you insist on leaving, gotta make sure you’ve got the provisions to make it through. It’s a long walk to the Fright Zone in this weather.”

“You’ll get in trouble,” Mara comments, throwing the food in her small bag anyway. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

 

“She was eight at the time, right?” Scorpia asks, separating fish from their heads with her pincers. 

“Eight years, three months, seventeen days,” Catra responds, still packing away a few of her papers. 

“Wow, you just knew that right off the top of your head?” Catra rolls her eyes at the smile in Scorpia’s voice.

“I do my research, Scorpia, nothing else.” Catra shoves the last of the papers into folders, rounding on her partner in crime.

“Sure,” Scorpia says, drawing out the word. “You used to work in the Castle, didn’t you?”

Catra glares at her flatly. “Which is why we’re going to be able to pull this off. Between your noble ties and my firsthand knowledge, we’ll con the socks off of Prince Adam.”

Scorpia smile dims as she glances around the room they’ve crowded with things from all over the Castle. “It used to be quite a sight, didn’t it? The whole city, too.”

“Yeah,” Catra replies, far off for a moment, before she clears her throat, “well, it’s not anymore.” Catra sits beside Scorpia, using her claws to gut the fish. “We’re getting out of this dump. You and me.”

Scorpia nudges her shoulder. “You and me.”

Catra grins. “All we need now is the girl.”

 

“Bye everyone!” Mara waves as the administrator hurries her to the gates. Lonnie leans out the upstairs window, waving back furiously. 

“Mara!” the administrator barks. “Pay attention!”

“Sorry, sir,” Mara says, not at all apologetic. 

“You’ll be able to find work down in Thaymoor,” he continues, practically pushing her out the gate. “You know the way.”

“I’m headed to the Fright Zone,” Mara states matter-of-factly. The disparaging look the administrator gives her just makes her stand even taller.

“Thaymoor, Mara,” the administrator repeats. “Or you’ll die of cold on the way.”

“Thank you for your concern,” Mara’s smile is all teeth, “but I’m headed to the Fright Zone.”

“Then it’s good you already said your goodbyes.” The administrator snaps the gate shut, locking Mara out.

“Thanks for the support,” Mara replies to the wall in front of her, jaw clenched. Rolling her eyes and sighing, she turns towards the roads ahead. To the left, Thaymoor. To the right, the Fright Zone. 

Mara glances down at her right wrist, at the slightly glowing blue half-crystal wrapped and knotted in rough twine. 

And she heads right.

 

“So all we need is a theater?” Scorpia adds a little more salt into the stew, tasting it carefully.

“A theater and a girl,” Catra stresses. “We’ll offer her fifty thousand as payment.”

“That’s not an equal share,” Scorpia notes.

Catra shrugs. “Better deal than she’ll get elsewhere, and we’re the ones doing all the hard work. There’s thousands of girls who could be the princess, and only the two of us who could actually sell it.”

“Alright then,” Scorpia agrees readily enough. “A theater and a girl?”

“A theater and a girl,” Catra nods.

“Well, I can get us a theater,” Scorpia says, dishing out the fish stew and handing Catra the bread. “It’s a great plan. Foolproof.”

Catra rolls her eyes. “No plan is foolproof.”

“Nonsense, Catra, your plans usually are!” Catra resists the urge to point out all the times they’ve almost gotten caught. “Are you worried?” Scorpia asks, suddenly concerned.

“No,” Catra shakes her head. “Because we’ve got a trump card.”

“We do?”

Catra’s eyes gleam as she reaches into her pocket, pulling out a half a slightly glowing blue crystal. “We do.”

Scorpia’s smile brightens. “Then it’s foolproof.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "It's a rumor that's part of our history!"


	2. Even When You Hate It

Mara can admit to herself as night starts to fall and there’s still no towns in sight that maybe this wasn’t her best thought out plan. She doesn’t really know how far away the Fright Zone is, just that this road leads there and so she’ll get there eventually if she just walks in this one direction. She can sleep out in the open if necessary, she’s done it before, but the temperature was dropping dangerously low, and finding a roof would be nicer.

Just as the last of the light is disappearing, Mara finally crests a hill and sees what looks like some buildings at the base of it. She wraps her scarf tighter around herself, keeping her head down to keep the just starting snow out of her eyes, focusing on just putting one foot in front of the other. 

The snow is so heavy by the time she gets to the foot of the hill that it’s not until she’s actually in the town that she realizes it’s deserted. It’s not even really a town anymore, just the bombed out remnants of one. Still, a partial roof is better than none at all, so Mara starts to hunt around for the best place to spend the night. 

She’s just gotten into what must have been the town square when she hears a loud yell and something’s hurtling off one of the roofs towards her. Mara instinctively drops to a knee, aiming to catch the falling bundle, and she doesn’t realize until it’s too close that the thing has a broom that’s headed right for her face. “Raz-zle-dazzle!” whoever it is screams as the broom smacks into Mara’s face _hard_. Mara’s arms tighten around the person in response, crushing them against her and preventing them from getting their broom far enough away for another attack.

“I think you broke my nose,” Mara says, still seeing stars and feeling warm blood drip down her face.

“Release me, scavenger!” the small figure in Mara’s arms thrashes wildly.

“I’m not a scavenger!” Mara exclaims. “I’m just looking for a place to stay the night!”

“A likely story!”

“Oh, for - Fine!” Mara lets the person go suddenly, sending them sprawling into the heavy snow, half burying them. Mara steps back into a crouch, ready to fend off the broom if it comes for her again, blood still streaming down from her nose. “Look, nutjob, just point me to the nearest place I can find a bed for the night and I’ll get out of your way.”

The figure pulls themself up, leaning on their broom for support. Now that Mara can see them properly, she realizes it’s a small, old woman with wild hair and odd clothing. “I’m the only one left around these parts,’ the woman says, peering up at Mara suspiciously through large, thick glasses. “The war drove everyone else out.”

“And you’re not willing to share, clearly.” Mara sighs, aggravated. She wipes as the blood on her face with her coat sleeve, the movement pushing it up slightly, her bracelet glowing slightly in the dark. The old woman’s eyes get impossibly wider and then she’s scrambling towards Mara, faster than Mara can blink or pull back. The woman grabs at Mara’s wrist with surprisingly force, bringing it right up to her face, inspecting it thoroughly. Mara tries to wrench her hand back, but the woman hangs on and the force just pulls her closer. She looks back up to Mara now, but the distrust is gone from her face. “Um - “

“She-Ra,” the woman breathes, the warm air puffing over Mara’s skin, sending shivers up her spine. “You’re back.”

“What? No, I’ve - I’ve never been here before, lady.” Mara tries to pull her hand back again.

“No,” the woman mumbles, that odd look still on her face. “No, you wouldn’t remember.”

Mara starts at that. “Do you - do you know me?”

“Of course, She-Ra.” The woman steps back, tugging on Mara’s hand. “You needed a place to stay, yes?”

“Yes, but - “

“Then come with me.” She pats Mara’s hand, fingers brushing over the crystal wrapped in twine, before letting go and gathering up her broom. “This way,” she says and takes off without a look back.

Mara stares after her, weighing her options. On the one hand, the woman was clearly nuts, and could possibly be trying to kill her. On the other, the snow was falling ever faster and every degree the temperature dropped increased her chances of freezing to death. So, either way, probably about an equal chance of not waking up tomorrow. 

Mara shrugs, taking the moment to gather up some snow to clean her face. Hopefully at least the crazy lady would make it fast.

 

The theater that Scorpia manages to get is dingy at best and decrepit at worst, but they don’t need anything fancy. Besides, you’d be hard pressed to find a building in the Fright Zone not covered in a layer of grime, so everyone’s pretty used to it.

Catra slinks around the city, putting up audition notices in places where only the wrong sort of people will see them. With any luck, one of these will net them the perfect pretend princess.

As sunset nears, she finds herself climbing as high as she can, pulling herself to the top of a clocktower near the center of town. The Fright Zone is an ugly place, almost uniformly, grand buildings fallen into utter decay in the last decade. Everything is dirty or broken or both, including the people. But from up here …

The light catches the edges of the Crystal Castle, setting the place aglow in reds and pinks and oranges. And so the buildings around it, the remnants of what had once been, catch that reflection, glowing back. From up here, Catra can’t see the grime and decay. From up here the soot and stink aren’t so ever present as the fresh, cold air whips around her, blowing her hair wilder. Catra sits there, watching the city glow below, until the light fades and snowy-sludge starts to fall, making her retreat back inside. 

She can’t wait to get out of this place.

 

“I am Madame Razz,” the old woman says as she leads Mara to a small cottage beyond the edges of the town. Hidden by the trees, it must have escaped the notice of the war, Mara guesses. 

“Mara,” she says, cautiously following Razz into the building. She can’t help but sigh happily slightly at the warmth inside, a fire happily crackling away in the fireplace. There’s a large, cast-iron pot strung over the fire and something smells amazing. Mara notes that the pot is nowhere near large enough to cook her, so at least there’s that.

Madame Razz hangs up her wet cloak and shoes at the door, so Mara follows suit. She strips off her large red coat, draping her yellow scarf over it. Her boots go neatly underneath them. “Sit, sit,” her host urges, ushering Mara to a small wooden table with a chair on either side. “You are headed to Eternia, yes? That is a long journey indeed.”

Mara sits, still very unsure about this whole thing. “I’m headed to the Fright Zone,” she clarifies.

“And, then, to Eternia.” Madame Razz busies herself getting out bowls and mugs from low cabinets.

“I’m - not sure,” Mara hedges. “I’m just trying to the Fright Zone, for now. Then, out and then - “

“To Eternia,” Razz says, handing Mara a bowl full of some kind of soup. 

“Or to the Council.” Mara fidgets under the old woman’s stare. “Thanks,” she says, lifting the bowl and taking a careful sip. 

“You must head to Eternia,” Madame Razz taps at the crystal in Mara’s bracelet, sending some soup spilling down her shirt, “She-Ra.”

Mara curses, flinching at the heat. “My name’s Mara,” she says, a little spitefully. She pulls a bit of cloth from her bag, wiping at the soup a little desperately. 

Madame Razz steps closer, taking Mara’s hand in both of her and brushing her fingers over the crystal again. Mara freezes as the small old woman looks up at her, the almost reverent look on her face only magnified by those thick glasses. “You must to go to Eternia, She-Ra.”

“You - you said you knew me, before.” Mara’s voice is softer now, her eyes searching Razz’s. “Have we met? Is that - was that my name?”

Madame Razz shakes her head. “No. We have never met, and She-Ra is not your name, girl.”

“What is it, then?”

Her fingers brush over the crystal again, which glows brighter. “You must go to Eternia.”

“Can’t you tell me anything more?” Mara can’t tell if she’s desperate or annoyed.

“Promise, She-Ra.”

“If I promise, will you tell me how you know me?”

“Promise.”

“Fine, I promise I’ll go to Eternia. Now tell me more.”

Razz smiles, every tooth crooked and yellow. “Your soup is getting cold.”

“Are you kidding me?” Mara yells. “How do you know me? Or are you just crazy?”

“Mustn’t let the soup get cold,” Razz lets go of Mara’s hand, turning back to busy herself with the small cottage. “Can’t afford to waste food, not with the journey ahead of you.” 

Mara wants to scream.

 

“Next!” Catra calls, scrubbing a hand over her face.

“We’ll let you know if we need you,” Scorpia says to the disappointed blonde hurrying off the stage. It feels like she’s the fiftieth wannabe princess they’ve seen today and they’re only getting worse. 

The next person steps up onto stage, a large brown coat hiding most of the details. 

“Whenever you’re ready,” Scorpia says, a hint of tiredness around the edges of her voice.

“Brother,” a small, squeaky voice says, “it’s me,” the figure drops the large brown coat, revealing a skinny, pale body and a mess of short blonde hair, “A- _dora_.”

Catra feels like she’s going to burst a blood vessel. “ _What_ are you _doing_ here, _Kyle?_ ”

The boy on stage, dressed up in Eternian colors, scrambles a little. “I - I just thought -”

“Get off the stage, Kyle!” Catra shouts.

“But I want to come, too!” Kyle practically wails. “I could be of so much use, Catra, really, like, um, I’m a really good cook!”

Catra jabs a thumb to her left. “We’ve already got Scorpia.”

“Hi!” Scorpia waves.

“Well - why couldn’t I be the long lost Princess Adora?” Kyle asks.

Catra prowls towards the stage. “Because you’re the scrawniest person alive in the Fright Zone, _Kyle._ Have you seen the royal family? You don’t have the muscle mass to pretend to be on one of them.”

“W-well, you know, with all the malnutrition and, uh, stuff -”

“Get off the stage, Kyle.” Catra’s claws dig into the edge of the stage menacingly. 

“Oh okay, fine!” Kyle huffs, hurrying off the stage.

“Next!” Catra calls as she retakes her seat.

“Brother,” a deep voice says, “it’s me, Adora.” And another coat drops.

“Oh, for - You’re a lizard!” 

“So?”

_”Kyle come get your friend off the stage!”_

 

Madame Razz dodges every one of Mara’s questions after that. By the time she’s waving her off in the morning, Mara knows nothing more than she did before, other than the fact that the Fright Zone is only a few hours walk from here. 

Which is a relief, she supposes, as she wraps her scarf tighter around herself again. The weather seems to be getting worse and she doesn’t know if she would have survived a night outside. It also brings her that much closer to her ultimate goal - to get out. To get out and see things, find things. 

Find what? She runs her fingers over the bracelet, the way Madame Razz had last night. So, she’s not sure what, but there’s something to find. 

There’s definitely something to find.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Funny when a city is all you know"


	3. Dancing Bears, Painted Wings

She stands at the ridge, staring down at the city below. She’d known she was getting close when the destruction was greater, more remnants of battles and bombs, but she still hadn’t quite expected it when she’d crested over the ridge and suddenly there it was.

It was hideous. Thick curls of acrid smoke curling over practically every building, turning the sky a noxious gray. Every fifth building half collapsed, half destroyed, from disrepair or damage. And the noise! She could hear the shouting from all the way up here.

And, yet … She can feel her heartbeat in her throat, her mouth dry as she looks over it, over the tall crystal spires, new growth built around ancient architecture. More people than she’s ever seen before, little dots crowding the streets, their movements unpredictable and fascinating. The snow falling gently over it all, softening and brightening it somehow. 

It’s hideous. And it’s beautiful. It’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. The Fright Zone. The place between wars. Awful and terrible and she’s so happy to be there. She made it. 

Now to get out.

But before that, Mara makes one small adjustment. She remembers the way Madame Razz looked at her bracelet, the reverence she regarded it with. She never considered that the broken crystal might be valuable in any way, but she knows about thieves and doesn’t want to take any chances. She loosens the bracelet slightly, pushing it higher up her arm, hiding under her sleeve. There’s an odd lump there, but at least the crystal is hidden and safe. She can’t lose that. 

And then, then, she heads down into the thick of it all. 

 

Catra feels like banging her head against the table and Scorpia isn’t helping. “What about that one girl with the curls, you know, I really think she -” 

“You mean the one with half her teeth missing?” Catra grits out.

“There could be a reason for that,” Scorpia tries.

“How is there not a single girl in this city who could convincingly pass for Princess Adora?”

“Hey, we’ll find her, alright?” Scorpia pats Catra on the back, forcing her into the table a bit. “The plan’s foolproof, remember?”

“With the right girl, the plan’s foolproof. On its own …” Catra sighs. “Let’s clear out. Leave nothing behind.”

Scorpia starts shuffling papers into a pile for Catra to grab. “We can try again tomorrow?” 

Catra squares her shoulders. “We’ll try something else tomorrow. Can’t give up on a plan this good just yet.”

They pack up quickly, grabbing absolutely every trace they were ever there, sneaking out the back door. “We’ll try just scouting around tomorrow,” Catra’s saying as she steps out into the small street. The stack of paper still in her arms, she’s focused on keeping the door open for Scorpia when someone bumps her shoulder, sending the papers flying. 

“Oh! I’m so sorry, here let me help -” A voice says, getting closer as the person bends down to grab at papers.

“Help by watching where you’re going,” Catra growls, grabbing the paper before the person can.

The person snorts slightly. “Rude. Fine, deal with it on your own, then, see if I care.” Catra rolls her eyes, not bothering to look up as the figure straightens and walks away, still focused on the papers on the ground.

“Who was that?” Scorpia asks, looking after the figure in the red coat.

“Some idiot,” Catra says. “Come on, let’s get home.”

 

It takes Mara an hour standing in line before it’s finally her turn with a ticket seller. She’s still not sure where she’s headed, wherever’s cheapest probably, but she doesn’t even get a chance to ask as the person first demands to see her identification.

“Identification?” she asks. 

“You can’t buy a ticket without identification,” the ticket seller explains, immediately exasperated. “How else would they keep track of who’s entering countries at war with one another?”

“But I don’t have any identification.”

“Then I can’t help you. Next!”

“Now wait a minute,” a man behind her pushes at Mara, but she stands her ground. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Look, lady, without identification, I can’t even tell you the train times. Either get the necessary documents or stay here. Now, you’re holding up the line.”

The man pushes harder, almost sending Mara sprawling. “Fine, alright, I’ll get going!” she yells back at him, glaring. Stepping out of the line, she looks around a little helplessly. There weren’t exactly places around the orphanage issuing identification and she had no idea how to get one here. She couldn’t exactly prove who she was, she didn’t even know how old she was. 

“Hey.” Mara glances down to see a little kid standing near her, clutching a stack of papers. “Here, this might help,” the kid presses a pamphlet into her hands. “That’s one mark, please.”

“What?”

“For the paper. One mark.” The kid holds out his hand and Mara finds herself pressing a single coin into it. “Hope it helps!” And he runs, back to a nearby alley, still clutching his stack of papers. 

Mara glances down at the pamphlet, apparently for the market that sells here on weekends. Opening it up, she sees a small, handwritten note in the lower left corner. 

_Ask at the Crystal Castle for the papers you need. -Kat_

 

It’s not hard to find the Castle, which towers over the whole of the Fright Zone. Unlike most of the old crystal structures, the Castle bears no damage and seems to not even have any doors. Surely it must have, once, but now the outside shows no flaws. _The Castle sealed itself,_ she thinks, unbidden, as she gazes up at it. 

She wanders around the edges, trailing a hand along the impenetrable walls. She doesn’t know where she’s going, exactly, just wandering, watching her reflection. Her nose looks bent from the broom strike and she wonders if that will be permanent. 

She comes to a stop without really thinking about it, standing in front of a large, smooth facet. _There should be a door here._ She steps closer, staring at her reflection still. She traces the line of her crooked nose before sighing and resting her palm against the crystal.

At the press of her palm, something happens. Lines of light shoot out from where her palm rests, spiralling around each other with right angle turns, before forming the outline of a shape. A door. Forming the outline of a door. The light grows until the entire shape glows, glows so bright that Mara has to pull her palm back to shield her eyes with her arms. 

Slowly the glow fades, and Mara finds the courage to lower her arms. The light is gone, the outline is gone, and all that is left is a doorway. An empty black hole, leading into the Castle. 

Shivering slightly, Mara steps inside. 

 

Catra’s ears perk up, a strange shiver running down her spine. “What was that?”

“What was what?” Scorpia asks, attempting to put books back on shelves without knocking everything over.

“Didn’t you feel that just now?”

“What? Oh, yes. Definitely.” Catra gives Scorpia a flat look. “No, I didn’t, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Catra rolls her eyes for what feels like the hundredth time today. “Come on.”

“Okay!”

 

The strange door leads into a grand hall made utterly of semi-translucent crystal. Mara hears her steps echo slightly in the grand space, the vast emptiness of it ringing back wrong to her ears. _This is wrong. They should put down carpets._

An image comes to her, a small blond child holding a sword far too big for him, the look in his eyes as someone pulled the purple rug from under his feet, laughter ringing out as he went crashing to the ground. A purple rug with those geometric white lines clenched in small hands and that feeling of _victory._

One end of the hall features a raised platform and behind it a glowing crystalline mural of some kind. Mara climbs the stairs as quietly as she can, her footsteps still too loud and so wrong in this dead space. The mural features two proud parents gazing down at their two small children, barely as tall as their hips. The man wears a crown, his hand resting on the shoulder of the young blonde boy. The boy smiles out, his simplified face somehow radiating kindness, and Mara finds herself standing in front of him, placing her hand over the man’s on his shoulder. 

She swears the mural almost glows brighter, swears she can feel some kind of energy from behind it. For a moment she pictures the whole room lit up like this, that energy dancing through all the crystalline walls. She keeps her hand pressed against the mural as she glances back over her shoulder. The light would emanate from here, from this side, but it would spread more. It wouldn’t just glow, it would _shine,_ lighting up the whole room. And the room would be filled with people, with colors, with shiny, colorful people all walking that carpet to approach the source of the light. 

_And there would be laughter,_ she thinks, so certain of it. _There would be laughter here. That is how this place should be._ She turns back to the picture, looking at the boy again, looking at his glowing blue eyes. _He would be laughing._

The light behind the mural grows brighter, thrums louder, but Mara does not notice, utterly wrapped up in this picture in her mind of how this place should be. She leans closer, frowning, examining the mural in more detail, and the light grows and grows and - 

“Hey! You! What are you doing here?”

 

The figure wrenches itself backward, turning to glance at Catra as she yells at whoever it is. Catra bounds down the stairs on the other side of the room, booking it towards the figure. She doesn’t know how anyone got in here, only she knows the passwords anymore, but she doesn’t like the idea of someone messing around in here. 

Catra’s halfway across the grand ballroom before the figure seems able to jerk itself fully into action, squaring up to face her, but it’s not until Catra’s headed up to the dais that she gets a good look. She can tell from a distance that the person is tall, wearing a long red coat and a yellow scarf, but not much more. 

It’s not until she’s climbing the stairs to the dais that she can really see the bright blonde hair pulled into a high ponytail, the slightly purple crooked nose, the fierce blue eyes looking down at her. Suddenly it’s harder to breathe. Her heart skips a little as she can’t help but glance up to the mural behind the girl, to the exact same eyes staring down in the exact same way. 

The smile on her face is wild and confusing, she’s sure, but she can’t help it. Scorpia, always just a few steps behind, catches up to Catra who grabs her arm to keep her from moving any closer. “Do you see what I see?” Catra whispers.

“Oh. Um. Yes. Wow, definitely yes.” Catra elbows her. “No.” Catra points to one of the few surviving portraits of the royal family, of Princess Adora, and Scorpia gasps. “Yes.”

“We’ve found our girl.” 

 

As the girl touches the mural and the light behind it brightens, and as it dims when the girl wrenches her hand away to deal with the figures rushing towards her, at the other end of the room the shadows deepen. The shadows recoil from the rekindled light, coalescing into the darkest, furthest corner. They layer over themselves, creating a dark, absence of light in the shape of a tall, thin figure. And from her dark little corner, watching the ruckus below, Shadow Weaver breathes, _”Interesting.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Things I almost remember"


	4. Rasputin's Awake

Mara stares down at the strange girl smiling up at her with glinting fangs. The unnerving glee in her eyes half reminds Mara of Madame Razz and she has to fight the urge to take a step back. Her eyes flash to the girl’s half-hidden claws and the tension thrums through her. 

Catra gazes up at her, the right girl, the _perfect_ girl, right down to the fighter’s nose. Blonde, broad, and already bracing for a fight, just add some nicer clothes and it’ll be the easiest thing Catra’s ever sold. Her mind is racing half as fast as her heart as the excitement hums in her. 

The two of them stand there, for a moment as frozen as the mural behind them, and the shadows across the room tilt slightly, curiously.

Mara swallows down the half risen fear and clears her throat, breaking the silence. “Are you Kat?”

Catra’s heart jumps. “I could be.” She climbs a step closer, trying to bring her expression under control. “Why?”

Mara holds up the pamphlet. “I’m looking for a little help.” 

“Ah,” Catra’s smile is far less wild now, already doing the calculations in her head. “What kind of help, exactly?”

“Papers,” Mara says. “Identification.”

“None of your own?” Catra climbs another step, arms held behind her back.

“There weren’t exactly a lot of registration places out in the middle of nowhere,” Mara replies, narrowing her eyes.

“Most families make the journey at one point or another,” Catra counters, nearly at the top of the stairs now.

“Don’t exactly have one of those.”

 _It’s almost too perfect,_ Catra thinks, a small voice at the back of her head deeply suspicious. “And what do you need the papers for?”

Mara’s an inch away from glaring in distrust. “What do you need to know that for?”

Catra crests the stairs, stepping to the side to almost circle the girl. “Different jobs require different levels of quality, which means different rates.”

Mara turns to keep the girl in her sights, painfully aware of the woman watching them from the bottom of the stairs, trying to turn her back to neither of them. “Trying to save me a few marks?”

Catra shrugs, continuing her slow circle, taking in as many details as she can. “Always looking out for the customer.”

“I’m sure,” Mara sneers.

“So?” Catra’s still smiling, quirking an eyebrow at the girl.

Mara bites her cheek. “I was told I need identification to buy a train ticket.”

Catra can’t believe her luck. “A train ticket? Where to?”

“There is no way you need to know that in order to make me some papers.” 

“Different destinations focus on different things in the identification, and I can tailor details to make you more, how shall I say this, palatable to whichever place is reviewing your papers.” Catra smiles winningly, her fangs flashing as she finishes her circle to stand in front of her again. “Train tickets need a destination. What’s yours?”

Mara stares at the girl for a long moment, evaluating her options. She hadn’t exactly had a destination in mind, not really, just _out._ She may have promised Madame Razz, but she hadn’t exactly planned on keeping that. Still, the word burns behind her lips, and she finds herself saying, “Eternia.”

Catra shares a glance with Scorpia, who’s doing an even worse job at hiding her excitement. “What a coincidence,” Catra says, gesturing Scorpia closer, “we happen to have three tickets to Eternia right here.” 

“Uh, Catra, we have - “ Catra snatches the tickets from Scorpia, carefully hiding the fourth. 

“Three, two for us, and one for … “ Catra trails off, eyes jumping to the mural, to the blank blue eyes of Princess Adora. 

“One for who?” Mara asks, eyes flicking between the tickets clutched in a clawed hand, the fangs peeking through a half-smile, and the faraway look in the girl’s eyes. 

As Mara watches, it widens to a full smile. “One for her.”

 

She wants to stay and watch, to see more, but a pulse of energy from deeper in the Castle calls her away. The reverberations from the throne room, from that girl and the increasing glow, still swirl around her, around all four of them, charging the air. But she is pulled from this strange new energy by a familiar one.

Shadow Weaver follows the pulses through slanted halls, heading steadily deeper. She is a shadow among shadows here, a black mass barely discernible. Here, at the darkest heart of the Castle, she finds it again. 

The Black Garnet glows dark red through its black metal cage. It pulls at the wires connecting it to the control panel, pulls against all her painstaking work, glowing brighter and darker than she’d seen in years. 

She feels the pulses of energy like goosebumps, like shivers of building disbelief and rage. Even now? 

She glides closer, fighting each pulse that tries to push her backward. “After all this time?” she asks, voice low, raising a hand to the freezing metal, to the engineering she had never been able to match. “Still?”

The metal buckles against her hand as another pulse of energy shoots out, pushing her a back a few feet. The Garnet seems to thrash almost, pulling more and more at the restraining cables, as if it were trying to break free. 

She stares, just stares, as it seems to grow more and more frantic. She watches as it strains against her progress. She watches as the pulses push her farther and farther back. She watches it spark and shudder. But even she has to shield her eyes from the final wave of glowing red darkness, the one that severs the cables fully. 

By the time she opens her eyes, the Garnet is halfway out the other door. She rushes after it, some mix of fear and anger rising in her, burning ice choking out thought. 

The Garnet moves down hallways Shadow Weaver has never seen before, navigating depths she did not know existed. She chases it for so long that she is sure they must be outside the Castle itself now, must be deep underneath the city, in tunnels too old for any living thing to remember them. She’s half worried she’ll never be able to find her way out again when the Garnet finally slows.

They’re standing in front of a door made of the same dark metal as the Garnet’s mechanical cage. A dark metal shaped and crafted in a way Shadow Weaver knows all too well. 

The Garnet waits in front of the door, still giving off waves of energy, but nothing happens. Shadow Weaver can’t help but glance at what she knows will be there. The little keypad, right at hand height. She does nothing.

The waves of energy grow stronger and Shadow Weaver half expects to be flung backwards again. But no, the Garnet takes a more direct route this time. 

The Garnet flings itself against the door, metal grating against metal. Shadow Weaver could swear the whole hallway shakes, but the dark metal door is unmoved. The Garnet tries again, harder, and sparks fly this time. The fear grows in her, the possibility that the Garnet will damage itself, or, worse, damage the metal cage surrounding it. As it flings itself a third time, Shadow Weaver reacts almost without thinking, stepping forward and punching in the code.

The door slides open quick and silent, despite the years of dust on the keypad. It grates against the top of the cage as the momentum the Garnet had built up to break down the door propels it into the room instead. Shadow Weaver, every inch of her still on edge, follows after.

Layers of dust and grime cover the entire room. Shadow Weaver glides over the ground, leaving no mark behind, slipping silently between tables piled high with abandoned projects. She moves past hundreds of schematics, past half built robots, past cybernetic skeletons standing eerily complete. A shiver runs through her as she sees the Black Garnet come to a stop ahead.

There’s another table, a silver table, and something on it. At first glance, it looks like just another robot.

But she knows better.

Shadow Weaver moves closer, close enough to see the flesh poking through the metal suit. Close enough to see the head of the body on the table. Close enough to recognize him. 

As the Black Garnet pulses, a wave of energy sweeps through the room, and Hordak’s eyes snap open.

 

“Let me get this straight,” Mara pulls away from the clearly crazy women surrounding her, “you think _I’m_ some _lost princess?”_

“You said yourself you didn’t remember your past,” Catra points out.

“So what, every amnesiac is actually royalty?”

Catra rolls her eyes. “Not every single one.”

“But,” Scorpia steps forward, smiling warmly, “somewhere, one might be.”

Mara gives her a flat look. “And it just so happens to be me?”

“Think about it,” Catra says, circling behind her.

“What if it is you?” Scorpia asks, one claw coming to rest on Mara’s shoulder.

“After all, you do look an awful lot like her.” Catra gestures over her other shoulder, guiding Mara’s attention back to the mural. 

The mother’s hand does not rest on the girl’s shoulder, not the way the father’s does on the boy’s. No, instead one hand grips a tall staff in one hand, the other resting on the hilt of a sword at her hip. The girl, too, bears a sword, both hands grasping the hilt of the unsheathed blade that is more than half her size. Her shape is facing straight out, her blank blue eyes staring directly into Mara’s. The two of them stand at almost the same height. 

“So I’m a princess because I’ve got blonde hair and blue eyes?” Mara asks, but her voice lacks bite. 

“The right build,” Catra clarifies, watching the girl waver. “The eyes, the shoulders,” her gaze flicks down slightly, “the muscle.”

“I’m a soldier,” Mara says, not looking away from the mural.

Catra and Scorpia share a wary look. “In what army?”

Mara shakes her head slightly. “I mean - I’m going to be a soldier. I’m going to enlist, as soon as I get out of here.”

“Then what’s the harm?” Catra shrugs, tail twitching. “If you’re not her, you’re still out of here.”

“And if you are, then both of you will have found your family,” Scorpia says, laying it on a little thick.

“Both?” Mara asks, moving from the girl’s blue eyes to the blue stone embedded in the sword she wields. 

Scorpia nods. “Princess Adora and Prince Adam.” Mara’s head jerks to the boy’s warm eyes. “Your brother.”

Mara’s still frozen, still staring the boy in the mural down, when Catra pulls away. “Well, if you’re not her, then I guess we’ve got to get going.”

“What?” Scorpia looks shocked.

“Come on,” Catra grabs Scorpia’s arm firmly. “We’ve got to continue our search, after all, we’ve only got papers for Princess Adora.” 

Catra manages to get Scorpia most of the way down the stairs before Scorpia roughly whispers, “She’s our girl, she’s the girl, we need her.”

“Give it a minute,” Catra mutters.

“If we just offered her the - “ Catra shushes Scorpia quickly, risking a glance back up at the girl still frozen on the dais. 

“Just walk a little slower,” Catra says, guiding them both back towards the exit. 

They’re almost to the other staircase when they hear it. “Wait!”

Catra can’t help the smug smile as she turns back. “Did you need something, soldier?”

Mara rolls her eyes as she takes the stairs down two at a time. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to go with you. Just in case.”

“Just in case?” 

Mara jerks her thumb up at the mural. “Just in case he’s actually - he deserves to know. Besides, like you said, if I’m not actually her, no harm no foul, right?”

Scorpia’s smile is blinding. “And if you are her, you’ll have found your family again! You’ll have found out who you are!”

Mara blinks, swallowing something down. “I know who I am. Mostly.”

“Well then, _princess_ , let’s see if we can’t answer those last few questions for you.” Catra loops an arm through Mara’s, effectively taking her by the elbow. “Right this way, your highness.”

Mara pulls a face. “Very funny.”

Scorpia takes Mara’s other side, the two of them leading her forward. As they leave, Mara can’t help but throw one look back at the room, the dais, the mural, and the rug, phantom laughter ringing in her ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "And the nightmare was me!"
> 
> Sorry for the lapse in updates, February got _busy._

**Author's Note:**

> Updates planned for every Saturday and Tuesday at least.


End file.
